Love is Never Hopeless
by TheSheepSpeak
Summary: Sherlock and John undercover at a gay couples retreat camp. Following a suspect is hard enough, but what is it about Sherlock being okay with being seen as a couple? John's fear of Sherlock's supposed crush leads to him questioning his own feelings. Sherlock/John rated T for now.
1. Never Hopeless

Hi, first chapter awaits you dear reader.

First lets say I don't own anything Sherlock Holmes related. Then let's say this is being written on my ipad so there will be grammar errors once in a blue moon don't be alarmed, haha. I want you to have as much fun as I'm having with this fic.

This is very short for a first chapter, but I really just wanted to start off short and sweet. Can't wait to hear opinions and suggestions! Any questions please ask.

this is Sherlock/John fanfic. Can't say early on, how hardcore, lol.

Thankyou for reading.

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**Chapter 1- Love is Never Hopeless **

"Oh really, you call this necessary?"

"Well, yes." Sherlock muttered as a matter of fact. His coat tucked in the corners of his long torso and a scarf wrapped loosely across his angular neckline. He looked at John briefly after he spoke, for both their eyes were on the thing in front of them.

John was looking at it the whole time it was in sight, with feelings of shame and mostly embarrassment. His hands tightened in fists at he dove into himself to gather what he would do, go along with such a plan, or turn coat and run.

"Do remember why we are here." Sherlock said as a sort of reassurance, although his voice sounded a little nervous himself.

John noticed and found himself getting sadistic pleasure from Sherlock being nervous. Maybe it wasn't a bad idea.

"With a smile like that I can't say we will be here long," Sherlock spoke again, clearing his throat and tightening his gloves, "we are supposed to be troubled, not happy John. Do try to refrain."

That was all that was discussed and it seemed by the way Sherlock was marching forward, that they were no longer able to turn back. The damn fool had forced John to catch up.

They walked through the gates of Forever Hope.

Camp for same sex couples in need of a guiding hand in rekindling their relationship. A councilor program.

John left his smile back at the gate.


	2. Welcome

**Chapter 2- Welcome.**

Two male couples and one female resided in the small cramped waiting room. John and Sherlock stood awkwardly near the double glass doors they had came through, seeking physical space from the three couples whose eyes were glued to them. John found himself fidgeting and clearing his throat more than necessary while Sherlock practically became inert as a statue.

The line moved through quickly as each person signed in and were handed a key card to their own cabin. John shuffled forward when it was his turn, smiling at the man behind the counter.

"Hi, welcome to Forever Hope," he smiled back, "Please write your names here, and I'll grab your keys," his eyes lingered on Sherlocks judgmental expression for a moment before he wheeled his chair over to a cabinet and grabbed two sets of keys.

"Now, please note the schedules are on the—"

"Yes thank you." Sherlock interrupted him with a nod as he swiped the keys after a sloppy signing, he then picked up his small bag and walked back to the double doors. John apologized and then followed with a lecture on courtesy.

The cabin looked like it was log from the outside, yet inside the wave of air conditioner and sleek white walls suggested otherwise. It smelled of stale air and newly washed sheets. In the corner was a small table and two standard sized dressers, one bed, a bathroom, and a microwave and fridge. It was tiny and strangely comfortable.

John watched as Sherlock lounged over one of the plastic chairs, looking too small for his lanky body. His phone out and sending a text without a care in the world.

"Well you made yourself at home," John took his clothes out of the bag and made them neatly in the drawers. "Schedule on the door says we need to be in the meeting hall at six."

"Mhmm." Came the humming response.

John took a free small sized water bottle from the fridge and took the other seat adjacent. He sighed, "How long will this be for d'you suppose?"

There was a small hesitation, "Did you see our man Daniel in the main office earlier?" His eyes looking over the phone only once.

John nodded, "Uh yes, he was holding hands with a younger bloke, seemed a little too young," he took another drink.

"When we find evidence; we leave."

"That could take ages."

"Nervous being here John?" He looked at him with a smirk, "as I recall being gay is perfectly alright with you."

"I'm not homophobic." He countered quickly, "It is fine, it's all fine."

"Hmm?"

John shifted in his seat, "I'm just a tad, bit, concerned about us passing as a couple. Is all."

Sherlock nodded, "Yes I can see where you fail to notice our constant bickers, your ravish concern for my well being, and the constant assumptions from people around us."

"Alright I get it." He sighed again, growing silent before realizing and asking with a high pitch of denial, "Ravish concern?"

"Did you pack my patches?" He countered with a questioning glance. John couldn't help feeling the main topic was to change. This also being a very damn good way to prove his concerns, he said truthfully, "I packed three boxes."

"Three weren't necessary. One would have sufficed," he quipped before setting the phone down and heading to John's bag to retrieve them. As he came back with one slapped on his thin pale arm he gave John a smirk knowing that he only packed three because he cared.

"Now, let's talk suspect." He grinned further.

John had his nose in a local paper of the area, seeming to not care. He changed the subject out of spite, "Suppose we are to get a real laugh from Lestrade and his team when we explain this."

"Ah, yes." Sherlock fiddled with his phone before he turned it around to show a picture of Anderson doubled over in laughter and Donavan had her hand over her mouth in a snicker, "Lestrade told them two hours prior."

"He would send you a picture." He growled in embarrassment.

"I'd say we will be here a max of two weeks, I plan on having concrete evidence of Daniels involvement in five days." He looked pleased with himself, "maybe less."

"Want me to time you then?" He played along.

"Oh, please do." Sherlock stopped pacing the white carpeted floors to scan the room, he then muttered under his breath.

John crinkled the paper when setting it down to look over it, seeing his friend looking deep in thought suggested he wasn't serious. John only hoped. It wasn't unlike Sherlock to try and out due himself and turn a murder investigation into a game. "Right then, Daniel was it?" He knew Sherlock was only muttering due to John's refusal to listen to his observations.

Sherlock's eyes shifted to him and he nodded, "Yes. You saw the way he clung to his teenage writing lover," he paused and moved toward the bed, "a callous on his middle finger." He then preceded to shove the entire bed, which was thankfully on wheels, on a different angle. He continued, "He's obviously trying to prove to us watching he is a devoted mate, they wouldn't be holding hands if in a domestic prior. Suggested by the teens worried stare at the floor, he's shy, writes, and has a friendly cat. Introvert." He shoved the bed further until it hit the opposite wall, "Now, Daniel is different, extrovert, loves baseball, dog lover, oh and shifty wide eyes," he laughed at the last comment.

"Why move the bed?" John attempted to ask.

"Yes, why the wide eyes." Sherlock ignored him, "I have to mention a Professor Friedkin who published an influential paper on, The Criminal Stare. An ocular condition that instantly identified a mad man." He grunted softly when pushing the backboard flush against the left wall.

"Yes. However, the bed Sherlock?"

"Helps me think."

"How could it possibly?"

He looked over at him while moving the small end table, "Ever step into my room. My bed resides on the left." He simply put.

"This could never look like your room." John mused.

"Don't get comfortable I'm moving the table next." Sherlock mused back.

"I wonder why I question."

"I think what you mean is comply." Sherlock practically laughed as John had stood and was positioning himself ready to help with the table, "I can always rely on you John," he stopped with books in his arms to look in his eyes, "that's what I love about you." He mocked.

"Save it for the meeting."


	3. A Couples Intervention

Chapter 3 A Couples Intervention

The hall was more of a concert auditorium. Metal chairs lined the front row facing a wooden stage. On there were two older ladies who smiled as everyone took their seats in the front row. John grabbed a chair next to one of the male couples but watched as Sherlock took one three chairs down at the very end, legs crossed, not a care in the world.

So he shuffled over to join him, he noticed he were getting a glance from the boy he just left, looking sad for him. He didn't blame him, John would always follow Sherlock. No matter what seat he took.

Besides they were supposed to be a couple, what was Sherlock thinking? He's taking the dysfunctional love thing too far.

"Well, this is nice."

"Boring. This is going to be so pointless."

"Sherlock, these couples are reaching out for help with their relationships. I'm impressed they are so devoted to making it work."

Sherlock shifted in his seat to look past John down the line of the three couples they had seen earlier at sign in. He practically rolled his eyes, "Love John? Is so dull. If these couples are in such a predicament they need help from professional listeners to tell them, look at the silver lining. I pity their hope."

"I think your bleak outlook on love is a good place to start in therapy."

He heard Sherlock roll his eyes then follow up with the clicking of his phone. John thought of confiscating it.

However, he smiled at his friends attempt to look so upset. Sherlock didn't actually look so uncomfortable sitting next to him in these cold seats, he looked as if he were bored as he always is. This made John think, am I the only one uncomfortable?

He took a glance at the male couple he was closest to, on his right was a short chubby teen with a shy demeanor. He held in on himself as he talked with his mate, who had a brilliant smile and flashy clothes. He screamed confident. John felt he was strangely betraying these poor couples trust, like mocking their misfortune by acting to be one of them. He was so deep in thought he didn't see the couple suddenly looking back at him,

"Hi, uh, I saw you guys at sign in, you seem like a cute couple. Can't believe I'm even here right now. Ya know?" The shy kid laughed nervously, causing John to smile as an attempt to lighten his anxiety. He nodded but wasn't sure what to say even if his insides screamed to counteract him on his assumption they were a couple. So the boy continued, "I'm Louie, next to me is Alex. It's very nice to meet you."

"Ah yes, I'm John and uh, yeah this is Sherlock . . .." He felt he should have introduced him as his lover. Something about that told him he wasn't ready for it. "Cheers,"

"I like your green jumper, you really know how to compliment your eyes, haha, uh," Louie paused and said genuinely, "You seem like a very well taken care of fellow." John first thought he was flirting, but the way he smiled said he was desperate to make a friend. So, he was about to compliment Louie's own sense of modern comfortable style, when his mate Alex piped up, "Oi hey, stop flirting. I'm right here. I'm supposed to be your fucking lover, or did you forget?"

Louie jumped back with a visible sweat, "No no, of course Alex I wasn't doing anything like that." His voice grew strong them diminished as he muttered, "You know I love you."

John wasn't sure what to say. Or even to open his mouth.

"You can't do that here, you know I hate you giving your time to other people, just focus on us these next weeks." Alex's voice was demanding and confident, saying what he felt straight forward and for some unknown reason, John saw Louie acknowledge his selfish sounding anger, and accept it. He had on a small smile. Now completely done with John whatsoever.

So John turned around and prayed he wouldn't get engaged in that any further. Then, looking over at Sherlock he saw he was still head first in his phone, only looking over it with his blue eyes to mutter, "You can't expect to sympathize and befriend a masochist."

What? "Sherlock you can't just assume—" he became strangely offended his friend would be so blunt. He waited for the explanation that clearly came in an interruption. "He sits so no one notices his erection clearly brought on by his lover Alex's demanding personality, you could practically hear the fantasies." He frowned and went back to his phone.

Louie is a masochist? Of everyone to find out something like that, Sherlock would. He caught the urge to look over at the boy, "Guess it's always the quiet ones." He mused to himself.

"Quiet ones?" Sherlock found himself asking, "Of all masochists I assume most would be rather loud."

"That's not what—"

A tap on the microphone leveled out the noise vibrating around the room, and everyone, except Sherlock, looked up at the younger of the two woman who smiled widely and laughed, "Hi, hi everyone. My names Miranda Kole and this next to me is my mother JoAnn, sorry to interrupt your introductions," her brown eyes flew across each one of us, "Welcome to Forever Hope, I can't wait to get started."

The woman's mom, JoAnn, smiled sweetly and leaned in for the mic, "I see you've noticed only four couples are in our program for this month, I love to say we see ourselves as family here. We want to make sure you are cared for properly and you get our full attention at all times."

Miranda chimed in, "Over this month we will all get to know each-other and learn from others domestics and deep love to grow our own relationships. Right now we want to get ride of this obnoxious microphone and we will line our chairs up in a circle. I'm going to ask you to introduce yourselves and try and voice what you wish to accomplish and what problems you feel need to be dealt with first. Of course don't feel you need to tell us anything personal. But we will all be your support for a better deeper love. Let's get started," her voice was sticky with sweetness and overjoyed with enthusiasm.

So, we all turned our small line into a circle and closed in the gaps between us, so John now sat between Sherlock and Louie. As Sherlock sat next to one of the girls from the only female couple that resided in the group. That meant three male one female. Sherlock didn't seem to care much. John put on a smile and took a glance over at their target Daniel.

"Okay good, today is the start of being open minded," Miranda was the only one to join the circle, now speaking regularly, "Anyone first?"

No one seemed to oblige. So she smiled and took her clip board, "Uh, let's see. First to sign in was a lovely miss Kathryn."

The girl next to Sherlock spoke up with a monotone, "That's me."

"Would you mind being the brave soul who starts us off?"

She nodded, "My name is Kathryn, um. Do I have to say my last name?"

"No,"

"Okay, uh. I am in a relationship with her," she pointed with her middle aged frail fingers, "Chelsea was someone I stumbled upon and didn't expect to really fall for. I'd never been with a girl."

John smiled at her in a sort of understanding, feeling suddenly Sherlock's grunt of disapproval, deflated the feeling faster than necessary. She must have lied. However Kathryn continued without much feeling, "I want to be public with my friends and family and Chelsea feels it's unnecessary . . ."

"Kathryn this is ridiculous, I didn't agree to this only for you to tell everyone I'm insensitive." Chelsea's voice was high and annoying.

"I never said that." Kathryn argued weakly. She crossed her arms and looked done with speaking. So, Miranda spoke up, "Alright we have a good basis for what we need to work on. I'm thankful your here, all of you." She looked most of them in the eyes and continued, "Chelsea I'm going to have you next, we will go by couples."

"I'm sorry I don't feel comfortable, yet. ."

"That's perfectly fine." She smiled again, somehow more than before, "okay next is Daniel and Brandon."

John's ears perked and he watched as Sherlock took the time to watch too. Daniel had darker skin and deep eyes. He scratched his stumbled beard and forced a sloppy smile, "Oh okay sure. I'm Daniel, it's nice to meet you all." He took his lovers hand, "I'm here with my love Brandon. We have a lot of petty problems but I can't wait to resolve them. I want this to work." He squeezed his hand, "I hope to adopt one day."

"Oh good!" Miranda chipped in.

"Dull." Sherlock practically growled under his breath. Miranda noticed briefly but moved on, "Brandon aren't you excited to be a potential parent?"

The blond headed younger teen shook his head, "I'm sorry to say I'm rather frightened by the idea." John noticed he was American and found his voice small and under heard. Not much to go on, but he felt Sherlock had more to say about it. The boy looked only at the chaperone, "I'm going to try, me and Daniel have only recently met, I'm lucky to have him. He's so devoted."

Sherlock let out another grunt.

Even if everyone heard it, they all thankfully just assumed he was an asshole and moved on to Louie and Alex. In which Louie refused to speak so Alex did all the talking, "My lover Louie is constantly flirting with other guys and I want that resolved. He's always chatting everyone up but me. I mean we aren't here to get fucking married, I just want a decent relationship where I can fuck a guy and he won't stray from me."

"Well I'm glad you know what you want," Miranda soothed, "Just remember there's always a silver lining in these situations."

This time Sherlock didn't have to do anything.

This also was when John panicked rather quickly. They were the last couple and he had NOTHING to say or even think of saying. Any moment now—

"John is it? Your next please." She ventured for him to say something.

So, he bullshitted it, nervously, "Uh, I'm John. Um, Sherlock here is my, uh . . .my mate. We were, friends for a while before uh, ya know." He felt like he wasn't doing a good job so he very suddenly burst out, "He got rid of my limp."

Everyone's face held shock, then laughter, Miranda spoke, "Dear we will speak of sexual things in our private meetings." She smiled.

John felt his face grow hot and he didn't even face Sherlocks direction, "Yeha well I meant, I mean I was in war but he saved me. Well I mean I'm not happy about it. Uh that he's so selfish and a know it all." Maybe this wasn't so hard to complain about Sherlock, "he's always too impulsive and he can't share his feelings with anyone."

"This is a good start John, you wish for more communication with Sherlock, that's a very good thing. Thankyou for sharing, now we will move to last but not least."

Sherlock set his phone down and said with a calm meaningful voice, "John can't accept he's gay."


	4. Free Bath Soaps

**Thankyou for the reviews:)**

Chapter 4- free bath soaps

"That's all you could think of? I'm struggling with the fact I like men?" John sneered, "you couldn't have mentioned something else? Like, . . . Like how I'm distant after the war and you can't get through to me, oh, or maybe the fact I'm a doctor means I'm hardly around."

"I had taken the notion you weren't comfortable being gay and simply told the truth."

"Well how about you change your answer when we see Miranda for a one on one tomorrow."

"Calm down John, It's nothing you can't handle. More we tell the truth the better."

John lay on the bed with is frustrated eyes trained on the speckled ceiling. His arms flung out to take up the whole space and a direct meaning not to engage any further on the subject. Sherlock was right, he could handle it, but he wasn't prepared to anytime soon. "Do I really come off that uncomfortable?" What he was really saying was, am I really that obvious?

Sherlock sat on the floor next to the biggest window, his legs curled up close to him and his face watching the door to their cabin. He smirked but John couldn't of seen. "We will keep our heads, fighting isn't doing much good in retrospect. Ugh, I can't stand the smell in this place." He childishly plugged his nose. Then with the other hand checked his phone. He spoke with a drawl nasalizing monotone, "I need my phone charger."

John flung his arm over in a lazy attempt to reach his bag on the floor, but couldn't quite get there so he shrugged, "Get it yourself."

"I'm getting important information on Daniel and his murdered ex-wife." He took his hand off his nose to scratch his ear.

"His ex wife was definitely murdered? They said suicide." John countered, his elbows lifting him up to look at his friend in question.

"I'll never know now." He plainly said, turning his phone to show it turning off.

"Stop using it so much on useless things, this won't happen." He growled and leaned over, taking the charger and throwing it. The wire smacked him in his head while the plug fell loosely by his feet.

Sherlock gave him a look past his eyebrows.

John swiftly ignored him and laid back down with a sigh. "If you don't like the smell just go outside."

Sherlock was heard standing and shuffling around, John thought he might actually get a small chance alone to calm down and assess. However it was all thwarted when his coat was thrown over his face. "Your coming too, I need you to check out Miranda and her Mom, see if you can get information they have on Daniel. I believe their therapy session was today."

"How could you know that? She's not going to give me any sort of information."

"She clearly stated we were to learn each-others domestics."

"Sherlock that doesn't mean what you think." He sighed.

He got a look of confusion for a second before Sherlock tucked his wrinkled shirt in his pants and opened the door, "Take notes, she's a rambler."

That was all he got, John was left with the draft of the door being ajar. So, he knew it was worse when he didn't comply and he flattened his hair while he followed suit. Stepping into the slightly warmer air of the evening, fall was looking to be less chilly despite his thicker jacket. He felt the wind pick up as he made his way along a small trail back to the meeting hall where he knew she had her office in the back. Turning around only once, John saw Sherlock's dark colored coat getting tinier in the distance, especially at the rate his long legs took him. A part of him wished he could have switched responsibilities, Daniel was much more exciting than Miranda, which only made sense as to why Sherlock wanted nothing to do with her. This also made him feel a bit strange about his friend waltzing into two gay men's cabin as he asked upon their relationship, one of them being a suspected murderer. Not like he wouldn't handle it, he's had his fair share of danger, however . . . John felt the strong urge to turn around and accompany him.

At least that's what his body told him. His mind was forcing him to continue to the big building ahead of him. Up the white polished steps to the massive two story door that weighed less than it looked. He then got all the way back in the building to the auditorium and found who he was looking for on the stage with her mom.

"Oh, excuse me. Hi, yes hi, how are you?" He put his smile on while another part of him still fought to turn around, "I was wondering if you could assist me?"

They both tuned at the sound of his voice, with smiles to match as if trained when seeing another's face. Miranda stood and met him halfway down the row of seats, "Hi, John Watson isn't it? Of course I can help."

He pulled out the crinkled map from his pockets and panicked under his skin about how he was going to get the information Sherlock wanted from her. "Could you tell me where to meet for the therapy one on one sessions?"

"Oh, yes dear. We meet in this opposite building. It has a better office than my personal one," she pointed out the door to it at the back of the room, her eyes hinged closed as the corners of her mouth grew even further upward, "I'll be there for your appointment tomorrow morning don't worry."

"Oh good." He nodded, "I'm just so nervous about it, uh . . . I find, uh, talking about my feeling difficult."

"Would you like to talk a little now, you do seem a little on edge." When she no longer smiled the woman was actually really pretty for looking to being ten years older than John himself, he couldn't help thinking this wasn't as bad as he thought. "Oh, oh no, I couldn't without . . . Um Sherlock. I would, however like to talk to someone who has talked already, get prepared for the questions and uh, whatnot."

She looked taken aback, "Daniel and Brandon had theirs today, but I assure you there's no interrogation. We had talked about their need to adopt a child, for you we will touch on why you are having troubles with your feelings and why it seems your partner Sherlock is too."

"Good luck figuring him out, I've tried."

"Yes, he seems rather shut out and on defensive to anyone but you. I noticed his constant disapproval and lack of listening today at the meeting."

"Uh, yeah. You said Daniel and Brandon want a child?" John had to get himself back on track, he wasn't here to talk about Sherlock's feelings and why he himself was having problems. He needed some sort of access to the suspects file, see what he put down for contacts or relatives. She probably keeps that in her office.

"Yes, I have one of my own. I told them children really strengthen and test your relationship." She went back to smiling.

"You have a child?" He felt he'd finally hooked a fish, "do you have a picture I can see?"

"Her name is Julie," she looked to her mom who still sat on the stage with papers filling her fragile hands, "she's ten and my whole life." She then looked lost in thought, "Hmm . . . Oh! Yes, yes I do have a picture, it's in my office."

Once she started walking John jogged after her, asking more questions about Julie and what her favorite things to do were ect. To get acess to her records he had scoped the scene for security cameras, lucky because there turned out to be none. Suppose no one would think a person wanted a file on a couple they could just talk to. All the confidential therapy stuff must be in the other building. John told her he wanted another copy of the schedule, so she went off to the printer and had him wait in the hall behind the stage. He was quick like a rabbit to get the file and snap pictures on his phone to be the quickest possible. He'd send them to Sherlock once he was out.

It was a small victory, as he came out of the building looking at the pictures. Daniel was vague on just about anything personal. It didn't say he had been married beforehand and the relatives only listed a mother's name, 'Olivia'. John sent them anyway, wherever Sherlock was he probably wanted the info ASAP. Especially of he were interrogating Daniel at the very moment. He texted him to make sure he was okay and to say he was going to be at the cabin. But, after the whole walk back and no reply, he sort of felt lost. Sherlock was the one he trusted to tell him what to do.

However, at the foot of the door John noticed someone he knew at the cabin next to him. Louie stood with his head in halfway in his door looking as if talking to someone inside. Why he was watching Louie was beyond him, but something about how he looked so shy and timid, when Sherlock spoke of him being a masochist. Of him being so . . .corrupted. He wasn't sure he would like that sort of thing, tied up, submissive . . . And in pain. Pain sounded horrid when making love.

When he got the key out of his pocket he turned to look once more, this time catching the two lovers sharing a small kiss. It was short and sweet, John found himself feeling like a peeping tom. Which made him very nervous and suddenly eager to get inside before he were spotted.

The only problem was that he looked again as the key was brought to the door and he very suddenly saw Alex's slender hand grab Louie's shirt and yank him hard against the door they stood in front of. The kiss became rough and dominate and John felt a surge of embarrassment for watching, his eyes glued to the scene and his keys fiddling with the lock.

The keys in his hand slipped past him and fell to the concrete.

The noise was enormous to John but when he looked over with his heart racing, he found that they didn't notice, they were still roughly making out on their own front porch.

He huddled inside, getting slapped by a cool air conditioned breeze to settle his nerves. What was he just doing? Why was he so inclined to watch? Was he some kind of pervert?

This place was getting to him. On the first day? This was unsettling.

"A+ for the assignment John," came the baritone voice behind him. Sherlock stood beside the opposite wall with his phone. His hand in his pocket and a smirk as he glanced through Daniel's file. Once he looked up at his friend to say something else, his face fell into confusion and he tilted his head, "What's the matter with you?"

"I'm surprised you asked. You never ask."

"You look pinker than usual." Sherlock kept prying, watching John walk to the table with a heavy sigh.

"Just witnessed the true passion of our neighbors."

"Ah. Well, good thing you look so shocked. If I had gone with your theory of accepting your gay inner self, then some may grow suspicious when you don't grow a hard on seeing such acts. Hmm?"

"Oh don't be such an ass." John laughed nervously.

As the sun set Sherlock discussed how he had gone to their cabin and they were not home. He had then said he entered the cabin despite this fact, in through a supposed open side window, and found Daniels artifacts. These contained normal and insufficient data for him, which irritated him so much John found himself laughing about it internally.

He told Sherlock of Miranda, got nipped at for disregarding the mother, and then further made fun of for watching Louie and his mate.

"Perhaps they like that sort of thing, ya think?" John asked.

"Hm? Yes perhaps all lovers enjoy rough—"

"I mean in public, doing things in public Sherlock."

He looked at him with an upturned lip, "What's the difference? Inside or out it's still disgusting and meaningless."

"Meaningless? You mean you don't like, uh . . . Kissing?"

"John, we are here for other reasons than—"

"You said disgusting?" John interrupted, "you don't care for gays then?"

"John." He narrowed his eyes.

He kept his ground, "You said it was fine?"

"I never found kissing enjoyable." He sighed out, "and it is fine. It's perfectly fine."

John smiled at his frustration, "Alright fine,"

"Why are you smiling?"

"What?" John grabbed at innocence.

Sherlock raised his voice in pitch, "Your smiling? Why are you doing that?"

"It's just—"

"Just?"

He laughed, "Sherlock Holmes _would_ have a dislike to something so human as kissing. You _would_ find such a thing disgusting and not see the purity of it."

"Purity? John."

"The love Sherlock."

He gave such a look of disgust and disappointment that John dropped the subject completely. There was no getting through to him when such a look is given.

So, now that the day was coming to a close he had a whole new concern, "Whose to get the bed?"

"I don't care John if you wish to take it then do so. Let's not waste time and energy on homophobic tendencies."

He sighed, "If you want it?"

"Take it John before I change my mind."

He nodded, "Right then." This time he took a bundle of clothes and headed for the bathroom for a nice hot shower. He was tired and couldn't wait to get in the fluffy white clean sheeted bed. Thank god Sherlock didn't put up a fight.

He asked if he needed the bathroom and got a grunt of a no so he walked inside.

Stepping into the bathroom was so blinding due to the bleach white tiles and floor panels, he squinted when the light reflected back at him. The only thing that didn't reflect he found was a small package sitting on the sink, looking to almost be a birthday gift in a purple colored bag. A ribbon twirled around the handle and a tiny paper attached that had, 'enjoy your stay.' He fiddled with it thinking, free bath soaps, however once he peeked inside he found his mouth go dry and his mind fizzle out.

All the materials needed for anal penetration resided in that small bag of fun, along with papers and pamphlets that explained each procedure. This bag was set lightly on the floor out of sight, out of mind.

At least they were preparing.

John wished verbally that it didn't make his stomach feel ill.

The shower was exactly what he needed and afterward he was so relaxed and ready to curl into bed he found himself rushing out the door. Dressed in his robe with his boxers set loosely over his hips underneath, he found the entire room dark without the lights on. He figured Sherlock must be asleep.

Stepping over the few clothes draped onto the floor he made it to his bed and crawled in without the robe, quickly and discreetly cause for some reason he felt nervous in just his boxers. The sheets felt cool against his warm skin and he stretched and let out a soft sigh. Tonight he would sleep soundly, as long as Sherlock isn't a snorer. Looking over to the couch it was too dark to tell if he lay there, but he was certainly far enough away to muffle snores.

John let his heavy eyes shut. This time when he heard a sigh he was damned sure it wasn't him. And he was damned sure it wasn't from the couch.

Looking over, Sherlock's softer looking face lay beside him in the bed, over the covers he lay on his stomach with a hand under his head. His eyes closed in a soft breathing rhythm. John's throat grew dry and he felt subtle fear and slight betrayal. Sherlock wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to be sleeping next to him?

A long lanky arm creeped over to lay across John's stomach. It lay there and the hand attached gripped the blanket tenderly and pulled Sherlock's body closer still.

This time John felt sweat form on his brow and a nervousness he's never experienced before fill him.

What the hell was Sherlock thinking? How was this okay?


	5. Suggestive Conclusions

Chapter 5 - Suggestive Conclusions

John had found some time during the night to crawl onto the couch, somehow feeling cheated, but he was too tired to harp on it. The couch was very cool and soft, he covered himself with his rob and slipped on a cotton jumper. He fell asleep to the sound of the air conditioner and Sherlocks soft breathing.

Now, he found himself waking up early as the sun was rising, blinding light prying open his eyes and the sound of water running took him by surprise.

He recalled a strange dream, but couldn't remember it the second he tried. His back was stiff and his neck a little sore, otherwise he was fine. He rolled over to attempt another few hours, however the water had stopped running in the bathroom and it reminded him that Sherlock would be out and making a ruckus soon.

Sure enough, the smell of thick steam followed by the warmth hit him and he could hear something crinkling behind him.

"A reason why this was behind the toilet?" Something was shaken and John cringed, turning to see his friend leaning on the bathroom door frame.

He had a white towel draped loosely over his head, hanging half in his face, his wet curls sticking to his forehead and dripping onto his bare chest. Blue and white plaid, string tied, pajama pants clung to his thin waist and fell over his feet. He had on a smug expression as he held the purple ribboned bag between thumb and forefinger, letting it swing back and forth creating noise within it. A sickening noise that also brought embarrassment deep in John's gut. He cleared his throat, "A bonus package that comes with the cabin, uh, I suppose."

"You must really have an issue with being gay John, there was no good reason to hide it. Let alone in such an obvious place."

"I wasn't hiding it from you." He growled.

"Yes that was obvious." Sherlock set it on the sink and walked over to his bag being done with the conversation.

"We've already covered I don't mind others being gay, Sherlock lets not go there again." He sat up and checked his phone.

Sherlock was heard muttering across the room, "What?" John tried to get him to speak up.

"I was only saying, we discussed others being gay John."

"Yes that's what I said,"

"Yes." Came his answer, calm and cool, yet full of some hidden meaning John was at a loss for. So he changed the subject, "We have therapy with Miranda in an hour."

"Meet me there, I'm headed back to Daniels cabin."

"Meet you there? It should only take a few minutes."

Sherlock buttoned a white shirt and threw on a black jacket to match his black paints, towel drying his hair and looking in the full length mirror for a short time before finally acknowledging John's query, "Don't forget to talk about your feelings." He reminded playfully as he made the strides to the door.

John stood and clenched his robe in hand, "You had better show up I mean it."

"I'm merely," he paused to look at John standing in his boxers, a look of amusement and something else John couldn't place was shown. John threw the roeb on to cover himself as Sherlock finished, "I'm just giving you a head start."

He was gone by the time John tied the robe shut around his waist with more effort than needed. His face felt flushed and he was getting angry at himself for some reason he wasn't sure of. Why can't he just sit still and make a plan? Damn Sherlock.

Damn gay resort.

llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

Miranda had grown impatient within the first ten minutes Sherlock hadn't shown up. So anyone can imagine the foot taps and eye rolls of twenty minutes after that.

"So, I suppose we should start without him?" She shuffled papers on her cluttered dark wood desk and signed them without much thought. "I'd like to remind you that, you both paid for this counseling." She soothed her irritated voice, "I can't guarantee the best results if your both not committing to the required program."

"Uh, sorry. Sherlock is just so . . ."

She tightened her lips, "How long has it been."

John took a quick nervous look at his watch, "Thirty four minutes."

Miranda held a look of irritation again once he met her eyes. And he recoiled slightly, seeing it was the wrong answer. "Oh, since we've been together, like, together together." He shifted in his squeaky chair and racked his brain to come up with an answer under this pressure. "Not . . . long." He drawled out with no confidence.

She suddenly smiled, "Ah, I see. Okay good you have a lot to learn from one another still. There's always hope."

John felt a little insulted that she was happy they hadn't had time to be the stable lovers she expected. No, they weren't really together, but the thought of her mocking that fake relation was sickening.

However he had no time to harp because Sherlock had swiftly and covertly slipped himself into the room and therefore, into the conversation. "Yes," he smiled widely, "I have so much to learn from John."

"Sherlock how nice of you to be here almost forty minutes in the session."

"There's a saying for that." Sherlock turned a little sour and he brushed the invisible dirt off his shirt, "better late than never."

"Is that paint on your shirt?" John practically interjected Miranda's incoming irritated glare. "And pink feathers? Sherlock there are feathers—"

"Yes don't worry so much, I fully intend to deal with them after my enlightening session with Miranda." He turned smiley again, "shall we start with his affliction within himself and his denial."

Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose, "Yes of course, we will talk about John's feeling on being intimate with another man. Just not yet."

John nodded in understanding and a lot of relief, at the same time, Sherlock shook his head no, "But he has a lot of unresolved issues."

"How long has it been." She simply put.

John perked his head up, "I mentioned to Miranda that we haven't been together that long." He tried to make sure him and Sherlock were on the same lying page. His friend didn't look so worried.

"Yeah," Miranda said, "I'm referring to sexually."

When they both didn't answer she scribbled something down then continued, "Well, I notice a lack of physical affection." She looked at how they sat practically three feet from one another in their chairs and leaning away from one another rather than toward. "The only thing I see is your remarkable ability to interact. Seeing you two here," she smiled, "there's no doubt you love each other deeply. I'd just like to see some hand holding, or a hug."

John swallowed his tongue. "I'm just not used to—"

"Yes John I can assess this is your first time in this sort of relationship." She was polite and suddenly sounding interested.

Sherlock smirked, "Yes that's an obvious assessment."

"Sherlock? You have been out a long time then?"

John whipped his head to watch his friend react in a calm manner, "Out is a mundane way of putting it. Saying I have confessed my inner self to my friends and family. In that regard no. Not intentionally in most cases."

"You have accepted it within then?"

He gave her an eye roll and John felt mixed feelings. He just sounded really sincere. How did Miranda get him to open up like that? Or at least look like he opened up. There was a fine line with his friend. "Yeah me and Sherlock get along, . . . Physically, just fine in private." Once he opened his mouth he shut it quick due to the surprised look from the one beside him.

"Yes, good. Have you taken the final steps?"

John was halfway to saying, what. When Sherlock said confidently, "John's a virgin." This answered his question, and made him feel violated.

"Sherlock!"

"It's necessary to let her know all points so she may make a referring conclusion."

Miranda laughed from John's reaction, "Don't worry it's alright, I'd like you to be honest. Sherlock's right in me needing everything you can give me. And, I did come to a conclusion. "

"I'm ready to takes notes," Sherlock leaned in and rested on his hand.

John fidgeted again as Miranda said with a smile, "I'd like you two to, do a type of, experiment." As she said it Sherlock leaned even closer, "let's try to strengthen your physical side of the relationship. I'd assume you sleep together already. Let's try something different tonight."

"Different?" John croaked.

"Sleep without clothes tonight. Nothing major and I'm not asking you to take any serious steps. Just be getting used to one another's naked body." She smiled as if everything were peachy.

"Yes alright, let's try that shall we." John sputtered while Sherlock stood up as if this concluded the entire session. He looked disappointed for some reason. John continued to babble as he stood to follow, "Thankyou and yes we will try that. Thanks for the time and I'm sorry it was so short and maybe we could chat longer next time. Have a lovely day." Sherlock was already gone once John finished. Miranda waved with an amused smile.

All John was concerned about was if Sherlock was going to consider actually doing this. They didn't have to. They weren't here to.

What was John thinking?

"Don't fret, we won't take her advise so literal." Sherlock said on their way back to the cabin.

"Oh yes of course not." John growled in frustration, "it's not like we could request separate beds. After this session she may kick us out for not trying hard enough,"

"Separate beds? What for?"

John sighed, "Last night I was reduced to the couch after you agreed to take it. Saying and doing are two different things."

"No worries tonight John, I have no time to sleep."

"Whys that?"

"I have a case file to look over." They reached the door and Sherlock pulled a crinkled envelope from his back pocket, stacks of paper inside.

"That's Daniels files? You haven't looked over them yet?"

"I needed to asses the situation before making a conclusion John." He smugged.

They headed inside, "You took the case without seeing the damn file?"


	6. The Suspects Crime

Chapter 6 The Suspects Crime

The face of Sherlock held a type of less-interested composition and although John had to help him sort through the pictures, he too felt a little discomfort. The woman who died was Daniels late wife. Pictures of her dead body sprawl out on her bed. Door and windows shut, it was an obvious suicide. Daniel didn't even gain anything from her death, yet Lestrade said someone suspected him, a neighbor said Terra would never kill herself. An autopsy wasn't ordered in time for her cremation. Daniel got away with it if it was true.

Sherlock heard the gist of the investigation from Greg and insisted him and John follow Daniel and see his intentions with this kid Brandon. John seemed to know more because he stayed to ask questions while Sherlock flew off to reserve a cabin in Forever Hope.

"She had been depressed for months after she lost her job."

"So Daniel claims." Sherlock set the photos aside to read the statements.

"She had four prescriptions."

"In her name, doesn't mean she took them or felt she really needed them. Daniel strikes me as a manipulator."

"As are most murderers." John smiled, "and consulting detectives."

Sherlock sat straight from his cross legged position, "I don't manipulate John, I suggest."

"Mhm."

He got another look of annoyance, "This is all Lestrade gave us?"

John nodded while shuffling some more witness statements, "Seen these then?"

"Witnesses are practically useless, especially the first to speak up."

"Worth a read through." He commented back, taking a drink of his water and setting it on the side table. He shifted comfortably on the messy bed while looking down on Sherlock who occupied the floor. The case was cold it seemed that Daniel had no motive and it was an almost perfect suicide.

Sherlock looked a little frazzled, as he picked at his hair and sat scrunched into himself staring at another picture of the poor woman. "See anything?" John pushed.

"It's wrong. It's all wrong." He shoved the picture on John's face, "look."

He did as told but was having a hard time getting the gist. The picture was of her laying dead on her stomach, with her vomit running down the side of the bed onto the floor. It was a dirty room and not much out of the ordinary. Her glass of antifreeze sat on her end table. "What is—"

Sherlock pounced up with more of the same pictures in hand, "The bottle of antifreeze is set ontop of her vomit upon the floor, that doesn't make sense. Her glass still has some liquid inside, if I were to kill myself I would drink it all to be sure wouldn't anyone?" His voice carried quickly as he tacked the photos on the wall adjacent the bathroom. "There's more, but this isn't enough information, there are other explanations to such small details and yet I cannot face the fact it was an accident."

"What were you going on before you looked at these?" John asked.

"It's only been a few weeks sense her death and he comes out as gay? Picking up a younger attractive male who he claims to love. "

"Alright I get it. You and your love complications."

Sherlock looked over his shoulder, "I have no complications, love is just not a reoccurring feeling I wish to indulge in."

"You ever been in love then?"

"We talk about these things a lot now a days, wouldn't you say?"

John shrugged and took another drink, "it hadn't came up before."

"I'd like to keep it that way."

He shrugged despite his curiosity and walked over to hand him the picture, Sherlock tacked it on the wall with the others. They both stood there looking at the information given, "What now?" John asked,

"We need a motive."

"So, talk to Daniel?"

Sherlock nodded quickly and scuffled over to the bed to sit, "Yes talking is one way." He paused to scratch his ear and look over at John with a suspicious stare, "I'd like you to be with me."

John had took hold of his water, "With you where?"

"Daniel's cabin may have more information, I had little time to look and another opinion would be helpful."

"You said you had nothing," John dead panned.

This got a look of annoyance thrown his way, "I had a run in with our neighbors, face sucking without a care for others tolerance." He rolled his eyes and touched the bridge of his nose, "I was intercepted mercilessly."

John found himself laughing before he could help himself and Sherlock stiffened at the sound, "You mean Louie and Alex?" He laughed again, "They obviously don't like privacy."

"Yes obviously." He growled.

"So, we head over there after lunch?"

"Lunch? As in a scheduled event?"

John nodded, "Of course, it's in a few minutes. All the couples need to be there, some sort of bonding thing I suppose."

"Oh how boring."

"Sherlock this is a good chance to talk with Daniel." He pointed out. But, all he got as an answer was a wave off and an eye roll.

"No time, there's no time."

"We're here for a week, maybe two. We have plenty of—"

"He got away with it John." Sherlock interrupted, "anyone who gets away with something will do it again."

"What? Like kill Brandon? His lover, here on the grounds of the resort?"

Sherlock nodded and continued to rub his temples, "He's cocky and arrogant. Of course he will do it again. Here. Anywhere."

"Why?"

"Haven't you been listening? That's the problem." Sherlock quipped and stood suddenly to look over the pictures on the wall again. He almost looked to be a part of the cluttered mystery, his face leaning in to see the detail of every picture, "If only I'd been there. At the scene." He mumbled.

"Well," John changed the subject. There was no talking to him once he talked to himself. "I'll get prepared for the lunch, leave you to it."

Sherlock was heard sighing childishly behind him as he headed to the bathroom to wash up. John only hoped he could figure this out quick like he wanted and that Daniel isn't as dangerous as he claimed. He had to admit that the few details that Sherlock pointed out were odd, but could he really conclude that Daniel killed her? It wasn't as if Sherlock is wrong often.

His mind started to wonder to what Miranda had so kindly suggested. Sleeping naked wasn't exactly wrong of her to interject, but the thought made him feel . . . sour. And what about their next session? She will be expecting a full report. John supposed he would have to talk over a good story that they could both stick with. Maybe say they've had sex so that she wouldn't ask that of them too.

Then again, she'd want details seeing as how she needs, 'all the information.' Sherlock wasn't helping back there ether, in fact he encouraged. He probably got a huge kick out of seeing him flustered. Sherlock could be cruel like that at times.

He was just so calm . . .

"John. I've decided."

His voice interrupted him fully, he peaked his head out of the bathroom doorframe to look at him. "Hm?"

"We go to the scheduled dinner." His lanky form pranced around the small cabin to find his coat.

"And then?" He paused to mention, "it's on the back of the door—yeah there. Now, what are we doing?"

He hardly got a look before Sherlock was at the door ready to leave. John dried his face with a fuzzy white towel and escaped the bathroom, "Might be early," he pressed for him to slow down. However his efforts were wasted due to Sherlock now shifted quickly through his phone and no longer paying attention. He continued to hold the door open revealing the screen door behind him. It instantly smelled of sweet flowers as the wind drifted in.

As John drew closer, pulling his coat on, he found himself inhaling deeply. The stale air that lingers in the cabin had his head spinning. Before he knew it he was totally focused on the sweet scent, now he smelled cocoanut and a hint of strawberries. "Strawberries?" He found himself asking.

"They had only one to choose." He muttered beside him.

John zipped his coat, "That's you?"

"I'm sure you won't laugh when you smell the same after a shower." With that he set himself outside taking his cocoanut strawberry scent with him. John smirked as he followed, something about Sherlock smelling like a girl that he found funny.

/\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

The tables were set outside with flowing uncontrollable table cloths, that crinkled when you tried to sit. John had spotted Daniel and Brandon chatting up Louie on the far end. So, he rushed to get his plate and grab a seat across them.

"Spaghetti is good," he broke their weak conversation about cotton shirts and sat across Brandon, "the mashed potatoes seem a little lumpy," he laughed a little and poked it with his plastic fork.

"Yeah," Brandon smiled politely and took a shot at cutting his noodles shorter. His voice still seeming little and unheard, John acknowledged him.

Alex, who sat next to him looked him over with a raised eyebrow, "You cut your noodles? Why not just slurp em like your supposed to?"

"They can be messy," John spoke up for him, getting another smile from the blond boy.

"It's unimaginative." Sherlock took a seat with a plate full of mashed potatoes and green beans, "Of course the councilor chose spaghetti, it's a universal contingent to social needs."

Alex perked up, "You have a very bleak look on life,"

"Suppose you just have an overly positive outlook." Sherlock took his phone out and seemed to socially block everyone. In which were all now looking at John sympathetically for Sherlocks behavior. He took the sympathy because he felt he may deserve a little.

"I like your sweater Daniel," John started, mentioning to his striped collared sweater the guy wore close to his slightly chubby frame. Daniel smiled with white teeth flashing, "Thanks John, I got this from my aunt. It was something I grew to love."

"For what occasion?"

"Uh, Christmas. It was two years ago."

John stabbed his chunked potatoes, "Did you know Brandon back then?"

He nodded slightly, "Uh yeah."

"No," Brandon spoke up suddenly looking past his cut noodles, "You were still with your wife . . . Uh, back then."

"Yes, yes that's right—"

"Was she gay?" Sherlock spoke up over his phone.

Everyone looked to Daniel with confused looks before he answered, "No, not at all. She wasn't transgendered, if that's what you mean." He shifted uncomfortably, "full woman."

"You broke up after accepting you were gay?"

"Yes, suppose we did." He grew suspiciously quiet, "Um, I'm sorry I don't want to talk about me all day. How about you and John? Been together long?" His grin came back.

John purposefully stuffed his mouth with his food, shrugging and hoping to play it off. Unfortunately it didn't work, Alex piped up, "Well how long is that then?"

"A few months," Sherlock spoke up, tapping on his phone more, "tell me how you met each other, Daniel." He spoke as if in a real interrogation and everyone caught on to his tone, Daniel looked sideways at him. "Oh you know, out of the blue."

"He was at my work one day," Brandon practically whispered.

"Through work?" Alex frowned, "that sounds horrific, me and Louie met at one of my shows."

"Shows?" Daniel asked.

"Yeah, I'm a drag queen." Alex smirked, "not like you see typically, but I enjoy a good feathered dress," he then swung his arm around Louie beside him, "you fell head over heels huh, darling?"

Louie smiled shyly, "Of course Alex."

"Your so cute when your embarrassed." He snuggled closer to him making the boy turn red in the face. John felt a little uncomfortable as he remembered their failure to notice public affection rules.

Sherlock spoke up quickly to change the subject again, "So, Brandon. Can you tell me about why you want to adopt?"

Daniel laughed before anyone could catch up, "Haha, Sherlock your a curious one. Brandon and I are hoping to adopt to be closer, and the idea of a child has always been a goal of mine."

"You didn't have one with your wife?"

The hurt jealous look on Brandon's face suddenly made John come to the rescue, "We shouldn't ask something so personal Sherlock. Save that stuff for the councilor, right?"

Everyone seemed to relax and nod. Alex spoke up as Sherlock gave John a turned up eyebrow, "Tell me something then John. As a subject change, I'm curious,"

"Hmm?" He took another bite of potatoes.

"How come you guys aren't all over each other? In the first few months they say it's the worst," he winked at Louie making the poor boy sputter. John was doing the same internally. So, he opened his mouth to bullshit, when a deep baratoned resentful voice said beside him, "John isn't comfortable with my affections quite yet."

Alex burst into laughter with Daniel and now John felt the embarrassed heat get to his face, he turned to his friend waving his fork at him dangerously, "What gives you the right to say such things to them? I can't believe you said that."

Sherlock was looking back with an unexpected look of surprise, "Your face is quite red." He muttered,

Alex took a breathe "I'm sorry man, really I am. You're just the strangest couple I've ever seen."

"Yeah," Daniel pitched in, "I understand how John is about gay relations, but you hardly even sit close. Your awfully opposite too."

"In fact we both like blueberry muffins." Sherlock spoke up in quick defense. This made Daniel smile big and Alex laugh again, his arm pulling Louie into him and pecking his forehead. Some of the books Louie had under his arm fell across the table.

"Oh sorry love," Alex laughed and helped gather the small flimsy things. John was close enough to read them, "These are, . . . Detective stories?"

"Hah yeah, Lou's got a kink for em" Alex rolled his eyes.

John felt like laughing himself, especially as Sherlock stiffened beside him, "Really? That's interesting."

"He only likes these real old ones. I keep thinking it's the old—ompf!" He was jabbed hard in the side by Louie as an attempt to shut him up. Alex just continued to laugh, "Love when you get physical darling." He gritted.

John smiled set the two of them and turned to watch as Sherlock stood with an untouched plate and had given him a look of being uncomfortable. So, John followed with his own plate to accompany him to the trash bin.

"Oh don't look like that," he laughed, "it's a sort of compliment if you think about it."

"If you actually consider that a compliment, I'd need you to rethink your judgments. Having you here is crucial to revealing Daniel, and I think your not taking it seriously."

"Oh?" John threw his plate in the bin and they stood and whispered around it, "How am I not taking this seriously? Sherlock, your the one maybe taking it a little too far. They don't need to hear that I have issues with—"

"Shh-" Sherlock hushed him and turned to throw away wrappers in his coat. John saw the dilemma was that Alex was bounding over to the bin, smiling big. He squeezed past them and threw it inside, "You lovers aren't having a quarrel are ya?"

"Alex—" John started,

"Don't worry about your homophobic problems Johnny, I know guys worse than you who get past it. I'll help ya," he leaned in and slapped him on he shoulder.

Sherlocks tall frame made it's way between them, "It's just John, and no thanks." He then pulled out his phone again and sulked back to the table. This left John pinching the bridge of his nose and Alex looking a little hurt, "He's a really serious person."

"Uh, yeah sometimes he is." John sighed,

"What do you see in him?"

Alex was always very frank and John anticipated this question. He wasn't sure he thought enough on it and now he had no idea what to say. "Well," his voice raised, "um, ever sense I met him he's been an unexpected element in my life, uh I mean—he's a crazy genius and I admire that."

"His brains?" Alex smiled, "he's got a nice ass too, you should mention that next time someone asks," he clapped him on the shoulder again, "not to mention his eyes."

Something stirred in John's gut, "oh, uh yes his eyes are very pretty."

Alex kept up a bouncing stride as they headed to the table. John found himself unable to meet Sherlocks gaze he rest of the event.

Somewhere along the line they were dragged into an invite to the heated pool inside the rec-room. Both Alex and Louie were the first to mention it and then Daniel and Brandon were all excited about making new friends that they didn't take no for an answer. John talked to Sherlock the second hey were alone on the way back to the cabin, asking how far they were going to take this. He responded with, it won't be long. This didn't make him feel any better.

Alex and Louie were behind them, "I heard there's a hot tub," Alex pulled into their short conversation.

"Sounds relaxing," John smiled.

"Got yourselves some trunks?" He asked,

John shook his head, "Uh, no. I don't think I do." He opened their cabin door, "suppose we shouldn't go—"

"The nude it is," Alex winked and dragged Louie into their adjacent cabin, "hurry up,"

/\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

John had tried everything to excuse himself from this trip to the pool. No matter what he said he found himself standing around it anyhow. Daniel and Brandon were already in, apparently they brought their swimming trunks. The pool was large with a shallow and deep end, near the back was a small hot tub that Alex was blabbering about the whole way there.

Alex stripped instantly, pausing at his boxers to wink in Louie's direction and then shouting, "Sorry not sorry!" Before jumping in butt naked.

"Oh god." Louie looked to John with embarrassment, "I'm so sorry."

"Uh, it's . . . Okay." John said.

Louie got in with his boxers and Alex was all over him in mere moments. Sherlock had a seat in the chairs and John puddled over to talk with him.

"At least we're here."

"I'm looking over Daniels criminal record."

So, it looked like he wasn't going to be swimming. Where does that leave him?

"John! Come in!" Alex shouted.

John waved him off and took a seat. He hoped it would be enough to get them uninterested, but to his dismay it wasn't. Alex had jumped out and grabbed a towel, his small frame looking smaller inside it. He walked over with his wet feet slapping the pavement. "Sherlock put your phone away, come on in." He smiled, "I got Lou on music duty and I hear Daniel brought the beer." He pointed to a case ontop the opposite table.

"Oh cheers," John got up to help himself and ignored Alex talking Sherlock out of the phone. He took a drink and relaxed back into his seat, only to find Sherlock shedding his coat, "you getting in?"

"Hell yeah he is!" Alex perked up.

Looking at Sherlocks face, he seemed unreadable. Alex spoke again, "John, I think he may need help with his clothes." He winked and turned to walk back to the pool, "if you don't help I'll come do it myself."

"Uh,"

Sherlock smirked, "He has made it a goal to help you through your problem."

John coughed, "I don't have one."

"Then help me with this button." He stood in front of John then in a way that demanded his presence. John swallowed and set his beer down, he was still sitting so he found looking up at his friend made him look taller than ever. The dim lights in the pool house shown behind his curled locks and now John was thinking about how he looks with his hair wet.

A very strange feeling came over him and suddenly he was nervous and wanted to run.

"John?" His voice lowered and almost sounded nervous himself. "You going to sit there all evening?"

"Okay, shut it." He growled back as he stood. If he was going to do this then fine he will get it over with. There's nothing wrong with it. He doesn't have a problem. So, with fumbling hands he reached out to his vest and set three buttons loose.

He let out a held breath, "There you go." He avoided his eyes as Sherlock stepped closer and forced John to hit the back of his knees on his chair. "John, your face is red again. This isn't a problem for you is it?"

"Of course not."

"Take off my shirt."

"Sherlock—"

"It's all that is required." His long slender fingers reached over to pull off John's jacket. "Alex should back off if we do this."

"Fine." John shook his shoulders to help along his jacket and then reached to fully undo Sherlocks white shirt. He found his heart pounding against his ribs and a lump in his throat because he's never been this close to his friend. The smell of strawberries hit him and he inhaled without thinking properly. His hands hesitated at taking it fully off, but he cleared his throat and stood tall to pull it over and expose his bare chest.

Sherlock was looking down at him, "That wasn't so bad."

Looking at him for some strange reason, he found a look in Sherlocks eyes he'd never really seen. He looked like he was fully concentrated on John and his eyes were lustful.

There is a line to be drawn at this moment and now John felt the fear again, "You should be able to manage now." He sat down and let Sherlock back off to pull off his pants.

Taking a drink of beer was what helped him get brought the nervous feeling deep in his gut.

"That was hot!" Alex shouted from the pool, his arm around Louie and his dark hair over his face and flashy grin. "Oh come on! John get his pants!"

Sherlock was halfway unbuttoning them when he looked over as John shook his head, "I think I'll wait until therapy to discuss my problems with that, thankyou Alex."

"Leave them be," Louie said.

"Alright honey, let's go make out over there."

X

**sorry for typos guys and the fact it's taking me a while to post these, work is killing me. Haha. Hope your still interested and I love all the feedback, :) keeps me excited to write. **

**Love you all next chapter coming soon**


	7. Cold Feet

Guys I'm so sorry for being so late on these matters. I hope you can be patient with me. This chapter is short, and I wanted to just give you something, better than nothing.

I am struggling but I haven't given up.

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CHAPTER 7

The sun had gotten ready to set as they left the pool area and walked back to their cabins. Alex and Louie tagged along for a short time, but veered off quite suddenly to the trails in the small foliage claiming to want to get a better view of the sun.  
Sherlock had his white towel wrapped around his neck and his coat thrown on over his damp skin. He clicked away on his phone, "delightful evening."  
"Until Alex was on the high board," John laughed, "naked and bellyflopping was unnecessary."  
"Very."  
They walked on and found themselves at the door when Sherlocks phone rang and he answered, "No, Lestrade we won't be taking in more cases."  
There were pauses where he would get a response, "Of course it was obvious-no I can't say we are-keep that information to yourself. Oh, good the families getting back together how nice? Dinner party at my house or yours?"  
John squinted his eyes and lead them inside.  
Sherlock continued, "I'm a smart ass remember? . . , No . . .No . . . .We refuse."  
"Refuse what? The other cases?"  
"Fine, just fine. Nothing worth sharing." Sherlock then hung up and went straight to texting someone.  
"Lestrade needs me for a double homicide case that took place eleven years ago."  
"Why now?"  
He got a look over his phone, "The victim was found alive."  
"Sounds like something up your ally then? Why not take it?"  
"I've already spent the money on the full week,"  
"We aren't even sure if Daniel did what he did," John hesitated as Sherlock gave him a look, "alright yeah, your the only one so sure. But, I think you should take this one,"  
"Not that interested," he answered, then grabbed his dry clothes and took the liberty to drop his wet ones in a pile beside the bed, "say cheese." He held his phone up and didn't give much time before snapping a photo of John as he stood over his bag.  
"What was that for?"  
"Settling a bet." He said as he went into the bathroom.  
John rolled his eyes and took out his dry robe to wrap around himself, the chill of the air conditioner had his arms full of goosebumps. "What was that about family Sherlock?"  
"Anderson got back from his trip,"  
"He was only gone a week, so what?"  
Sherlock emerged from the bathroom with a pair of his long pajama pants and his own robe loosely tied around his waist, "So did Sally,"  
"Oh, you think they were using the business trips as an excuse to shack up?"  
"Hmm, I'm glad you see it too."  
"Why are they still sneaking, it's no longer a secret."  
"The moment they do, I'd need different blackmail."  
John saw the time was later than he had thought and yawned despite himself. Swimming took a lot out of him. He set his things in the corner and headed to the fridge for another water and he joined Sherlock in front of his accumulating crime board surrounding Daniel. "We still going to break into their cabin tomorrow?"  
"Yes, I still need a solid motive. He also got very nervous when I asked about his wife being gay. Take a look at these pictures."  
The ones he pointed at were of their wedding and how she let the veil fall over her face, her dress loose and frilly. They looked happy. "You think she was?"  
"Transgendered, yes. Look at her, she's obviously a he."  
"So, he didn't like that his, uh . . . Husband, wanted to be a girl so bad? Is that a good enough motive?"  
"No," Sherlock took the picture from the wall, "he wouldn't have married her if he'd been uncomfortable. Unless it was premeditated, which is unlikely due to how it was achieved, than I'm sure he loved her."  
"Yes, Daniel did sound like he was sad." John sighed and rubbed his eyes, letting himself flop onto the bed. His body was tired and he felt the cold get to him. He'd get a very good nights sleep, the bed looked very appealing.  
"What are we to say to Miranda?" He asked,  
"Bout what?" Sherlock was kneeling over two other pictures.  
"Sleeping naked as she suggested . . ."  
He looked up at him briefly, "either do it and be truthful or assume it would be as awkward as one could make it."  
"You'd consider actually doing this, to make it easier to lie to her tomorrow? Or just because you like messing with me that much?"  
"Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."  
"Pardon?"  
Sherlock set the photos back on the wall and ruffled his hair by his left ear, "Sigman Freud speculated that sometimes things are just as they are. There's no hidden meaning John, I'm simply stating the only available options."  
"Your making me choose so as to see how I feel—"  
He suddenly looked over at him with an intense stare, "Feel about what?"  
John waved him off, "Of course I say it's nonsense. This is ridiculous torture and I won't go the extremes for a strong hunch that a man murdered his transgendered wife."  
"Strong hunch?" Sherlock looked almost hurt.  
"I don't want to play these games, I just want to solve this crime," John felt a little emotionally drained as he curled under the soft covers.  
"The crime is the game John."

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

John had found himself asleep after checking his phone for messages and a quick last minute shower. He must have fallen asleep quickly after, due to, the next thing he knew he was awake and cold from the stale air. The covers across the bed weren't enough to keep his ice cold feet warm.  
The dim light of a few candles had caught his attention on his left, he looked to see Sherlock writing in a notebook the size of his palm. He didn't seem to know John was awake.  
"Getting anywhere?" John mumbled.  
Sherlock looked up with tired eyes, "You should sleep, I can discuss it in the morning."  
"I'm curious," John protested.  
"When you don't sleep you get irritable."  
"Your one to talk," he yawned and tossed in bed, pulling the covers to use the bathroom. Sherlock's tired eyes followed.  
He wasn't in long, really he's suspected a few minutes, taking extra time to inspect his face in her mirror out of habit. When he got out and dragged his feet back to the bed, he looked over to see the lump in the corner had fallen asleep sitting upright.  
So, John took his robe and shook it off, feeling the cold hit his bare chest, he then laid it over Sherlock's long legs. The poor man must have been freezing.  
"You . . . Shouldn't let me fall asleep John," he heard his friend say as he crawled back into bed.  
"I'll deal with the consequences later. If you need to sleep take the couch—"  
"To far," was mumbled and the candles were blown out, Sherlock slumped his head onto the back of the wall and let out a soft sigh. John had some notion to get over his pride and let his friend sleep in the bed beside him. He wasn't homophobic and really he was—  
"Going to let me in or not?" Came his tired voice from above him, Sherlock had stood and shuffled his way to the other side of the bed. His voice drawled out, "I'm cold,"  
"Yeah, alright fine. Stay on your side, your a clingy sleeper."  
Sherlock hummed and the bed dipped from his weight.  
"At their cabin, we should look for something connected to," he paused to yawn, "to the late wife."  
"Goodnight Sherlock." John pulled the covers over his cold feet. 


End file.
